October 2: Bauhaus, Billie Holiday, King Crimson, MC5, Pink Floyd, Talking Heads, Neil Young

This week’s edition of the 1001 is an editor’s choice, meaning I’m drawing from some of the albums I’ve been looking forward to hearing. The best thing about a list like this is that there’s quite a lot that I want to hear – there’s at least 100 I’m keen to check out. Here’s seven of them…

Bauhaus, ‘Mask’.

The melancholy quartet’s second of three albums, all of which have their attractions. On this one, the template is tight, dubby rhythm section, howling John McGeoch-ish guitar and plaintive vocals, but this stretches to accommodate funk, vibraphone and sax, which creates a feel closer to PiL-style post-punk than to goth. On opener ‘Hair of the Dog’, the sound even approximates the sort of desolate industrial that Nine Inch Nails would later create on ‘The Downward Spiral’. An album with a lot of personality.

Billie Holiday, ‘Lady in Satin’.

I wasn’t awfully familiar with Holiday aside from the Hungarian death song ‘Gloomy Sunday’ so time to rectify that. Perhaps, however, this wasn’t the best place to start: recorded in 1958, Holiday was already in the twilight of a career that was at its apex in the 1930s, before charts or LPs were much of a thing. Recorded with an orchestra, ‘Lady in Satin’ makes room for Holiday’s unusual voice and phrasing, allows for the occasional pleasant trumpet solo, and completely fails to change BPM at any point. Surely not every song in the Great American Songbook is exactly the same tempo? Having said that, even if all the songs sound basically the same, the album flies by.

King Crimson, ‘In the Court of the Crimson King’.

Robert Fripp’s screechy guitar contributions to Eno and Bowie albums had made me interested in checking out his main project, but it turns out that in his own kingdom, Fripp is a tyrant, enforcing his power of copyright with an iron fist and sending a Spanish Inquisition of lawyers out to the pirate galleons of Spotify and Last.fm. This made exploring KC difficult, but luckily the help of friends got me a copy of their debut and here we are. This is heralded as one of the first prog albums and contains a lot of the trappings that would later become cheesy cliche – the lyrics especially (e.g. there is a song called ‘Moonchild’) but also the seemingly endless noodling sections (‘Moonchild’ is nearly ten minutes of it). It’s quite easy, however, to dig the Black Sabbath-ish heaviness of ’21st Century Schizoid Man’ or the lovely flute-driven ‘I Talk To The Wind’. Woodwind/keyboard player Ian McDonald drives a lot of the best music here, so of course he was gone by the band’s next album. Worth checking out if you can do so without invoking the wrath of Fripp.

MC5, ‘Kick Out The Jams’.

RIGHT NOW, RIGHT NOW, RIGHT NOW IT’S TIME TO KICK OUT THE JAMS, MOTHERFUCKERS!! There aren’t many more exciting openings to a song than the title track here, which would make it a shoo-in for best Side A, Track 1 ever if it actually was (it’s the second song, weirdly). The Detroit proto-punks’ album appears to be mostly recorded live, and while it captures the exhiliration of the band’s live energy, it doesn’t quite succeed in sweeping you along with it (the production isn’t quite up to it). Also, the album’s called ‘Kick Out The Jams’ but the closing song is eight minutes long? What a title track though, eh.

Pink Floyd, ‘The Piper at the Gates of Dawn’.

Floyd are, of course, most famous for their super-serious stadium prog fare of the 70s and 80s, but we’re a million miles away from that here, on their debut album. For example, track 2, ‘Lucifer Sam’, is pretty much a surf song: not a style that you’d hear on ‘The Wall’. PATGOD features some of Floyd’s best-known songs from this era – ‘Astronomy Domine’ and ‘Interstellar Overdrive’ – yet it feels as though there’s a lot of directionless messing around and not enough in the way of actual songs. ‘Chapter 24’ and ‘Bike’ are the most coherent songs on the album; perhaps English psychedelia just doesn’t move me.

Talking Heads, ‘More Songs About Buildings and Food’.

Another album on the list with Eno associations, this time recruiting the effete Roxy Music synthist on production and occasional performance. I wasn’t too bothered about ’77’, but by giving more room to keyboardist Jerry Harrison and adding some more flavours (soul, scratchy funk), this one ups the ante a bit. We’re still a while away from the Afrobeat/Latin dabblings they’d arrive at by the time of ‘Stop Making Sense’, and the album has just one single on it. Imitators in recent years mean this still holds up though: in fact it sounds as if it could have come out in the last year or two.

Neil Young, ‘After the Gold Rush’.

There’s something so cracked and vulnerable about Young’s falsetto at this point in his career that it overcomes any of the dull roots trappings or lumpen piano or harmonica arrangement, and this album feels heartbreaking even despite the elliptical lyrics of most of the songs. The title track and ‘Don’t Let It Bring You Down’ are as good as anything I’ve heard on this project so far, while the two minute-long fillers that close each side make you regret that they’re not longer. All in all Young does the sort of thing that Van Morrison or Bruce Springsteen are generally regarded as doing, yet has the ability to move me whereas those two (so far at least), can’t. Pretty much perfect.

Next week, I’ll be looking at some of the finest albums in hip-hop. There’s 21 albums on the list that I’ve not heard yet: time to bring that number down a bit.

Status update: 294 out of 1001 (29%), 707 remain (I’d forgotten to properly update the list last week, hence the sudden jump).

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May 18: Anita Baker, Jean-Michael Jarre, Pixies, Elvis, Talking Heads

Anita Baker, ‘Rapture’.

I picked this one out purely because I didn’t know anything about it. It turns out that I did know the lead single, ‘Sweet Love’. The rest of the album is, alas, lesser versions of that song and the sort of electric piano-heavy, gospel-tinged soul that passed as cutting-edge R&B before Timbaland, Neptunes and BeyoncĂ© tore up the rulebook. Not great.

Jean-Michael Jarre, ‘Oxygene’.

‘Oxygene’ was met with critical apathy on its release for being tasteful, minimalist and primarily concerned with texture. Yet hacks went mad for Air and chill-out music less than 20 years later. I can only assume the advent of the pill comedown changed perspectives. Anyway this is often a pretty series of backing tracks that would sound great with a stronger top line. It still sounds pretty good; less dated and cheap-sounding than many of its descendents.

Pixies, ‘Surfer Rosa’.

I’m sure I have heard Pixies records before but I can’t remember which and to avoid doubt, I’m listening to them all again. Like probably all of their albums, this one oscillates between pop HITZ like ‘Gigantic’ and ‘Where is my Mind?’ and dissonant shouty rock. Trivia: I first heard ‘Cactus’ through the 2002 Bowie cover.

Elvis Presley, ‘From Elvis in Memphis’.

Like the Beatles, Elvis is such an omnipresent part of popular culture that it’s hard to listen to his stuff objectively; however, this is the sound of an artist at his showman peak. The music is sort-of brassy soul with a country feel. ‘In The Ghetto’, the closing track, is an obvious highlight, but ‘Long Black Limousine’ on the A-side is also ace.

Talking Heads, ’77’.

The debut album from the scratchy New Yorkers, ’77’ is a charming but oddly unvaried affair highlighted, of course, by ‘Psycho Killer’. The bonus crap on Spotify includes the version of that song with cellos: the band hated it, but the screechy Hitchcock strings sound pretty good to me.

205 albums listened to. Just 796 to go.